


Shot Through the Heart

by NilesDaughter



Series: Dragon Age Drunk Writing Circle [11]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, technically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-04-26 23:39:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14412960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NilesDaughter/pseuds/NilesDaughter
Summary: The first time Sylvia met Fenris, he saved her ass from becoming a snack for the undead.





	Shot Through the Heart

“Shit! Fuck! Dammit!”

Although normally mild-mannered, maintaining propriety was the last thing on Sylvia Hawke’s mind. Her breath came out in short bursts as she ran down the hallway of the abandoned packaging plant. She needed somewhere to hide. Not for long. Just long enough to reload her pistols and catch her breath.

Dammit, she should have let Varric tag along with her. At least he was a better shot.

Just ahead, she saw a door hanging slightly ajar. Relief swept through her, and she propelled herself forward the last few feet to safety. She spared but a moment to make sure the room was clear of abominations and Reds, and then ducked inside. She slammed the door behind her before she finally allowed herself to double over, hands on knees as she tried to catch her breath.

Once she felt like she no longer had a stitch in her side, Sylvia straightened up and looked around the room. It appeared to have once been a managerial office, based on the filing cabinets shoved up against one wall and the abandoned desk opposite them. She paused for a moment, tempted to check for any inkling of abandoned supplies within the various drawers at her disposal, but she shook her head. The sooner she got out of the building, the better.

She crossed to the desk and took her pistols out of the holsters strapped to her thighs. She leaned against it as she worked on reloading the clips, all while keeping her ears trained on the door, listening for the approach of any sort of undead creature.

Once she had reloaded, she crossed back to the door, actually pressing herself against it with bated breath. She still hadn’t heard anything, and that made her nervous.

Sure, the undead were slow, but some of them must have followed her to this part of the building.

Still, she couldn’t stay here forever. Letting out a sigh, Sylvia gathered one of her pistols into her hand - keeping the other holstered as back-up - and slowly eased the door open, poking her head out into the hall.

It was surprisingly empty.

While that simple fact still made Sylvia uneasy, another part of her brain reminded her not to look a gift horse in the mouth. She slid out of the office, and turned down the hallway, intending to keep going in the opposite direction from which she’d come.

The further along she went, the more uneasy she felt. The north side of the packaging plant had felt like it had been crawling with zombies, but now it felt devoid of anyone or anything besides herself.

Sylvia finally arrived in the docking bay, and let out another stream of curses. Two Reds were blocking the only open bay door, and one was of the behemoth variety. Before she could duck back into the plant, the behemoth caught sight of her, and began shuffling in her direction. She backed up into the door she had just walked through, glancing between the two zombies, trying to work out her options.

She could maybe skirt around the behemoth - they were large, so they were heavy hitters, but if you were fast enough, their large size meant that there were slow.

But the other one looked like a shadow variety of Red, and while they weren’t necessarily fast, there were faster than other zombies. Besides that, they often mutated to the point that the corrupted lyrium grew in the place of their arms, sharpened to a deadly point.

With the two being so close to each other, she feared that she would run into one or the other regardless of which direction she went to try and avoid them. Going back into the packaging plant wasn’t exactly an option, either, because she didn’t want to be stuck trying to spend the night there when it was still full of zombies. And if she wasn’t back to the camp by nightfall, she ran the risk of being left behind entirely.

She half-heartedly lifted her pistol, knowing that the easiest way out of this would be to just shoot the Maker-damned things. But noise attracted them, and ammo was hard to come by. Truth be told, firing her pistol had been why she had been swarmed in the first place. She was loathe to repeat the same mistake, but if she wanted any semblance of a chance…

Sylvia raised her pistol and aimed at the behemoth’s head, before she squeezed off a round. When the beast started to stumble, she made a dash for the exit. However, she misjudged the position and speed of the shadow, and let out a shriek when it lurched towards her and blocked her path.

She jumped back at it slashed towards her with one of its lyrium arms, and lifted her pistol to fire off another shot.

Before she pulled the trigger, another gunshot rang out.

As the shadow crumpled to the ground, Sylvia looked towards the open bay door to see who had fired the shot.

A young elven man stood there... _glaring_ at her. “Do you have a death wish?” he demanded in a gruff voice.

Sylvia blinked, a little taken aback. To her knowledge, she didn’t know him. So why was he acting like her coming to the packaging plant was a personal offense?

When she didn’t answer him, he scoffed a little, and turned away from her.

“Hey! What’s your name?” she called to him.

“You should go before more of them show up.”

Well, someone sure didn’t like smalltalk.

“I have others with me,” she continued. “We’re getting ready to leave the area tomorrow, and we could always use another pair of hands to help with supply runs.”

“How do you even know you can trust me?”

“I don’t. But I’m willing to take a chance. After all, I think a group of people is more likely to survive that someone toughing it out on their own.”

“That optimism may get you killed.”

“Fine. Then look at is as a thank-you for saving me just now.”

He was silent.

“You can’t deny it.”

After a pause, he sighed, and turned back to her. “My name’s Fenris.”

She smiled. “Sylvia.”

He nodded a little. “Nice to meet you. Now, where’s this group of yours?”


End file.
